


end in sight

by bell (bellaboo), bellaboo, usomitai (bellaboo)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-04
Updated: 2008-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/bell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/bellaboo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/usomitai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helping Wilson only makes House feel more alone (set after the fourth season finale).</p>
            </blockquote>





	end in sight

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently it is law that everyone in fandom write a post-4.16 fic. I am no exception. Watch out for the schmoop &amp; angst.
> 
> Beta by Jougetsu.

Wilson doesn’t talk much these days.

Not even when he showed up on House’s doorstep, eyes red and shoulders slumped like he’d been defeated, had he said a word. He didn’t need to. House understood just by looking. He let Wilson through and closed the door behind them.

*

That first night, Wilson slept in the living room, though ‘sleep’ doesn’t describe it. He paced, he watched TV, rummaged about the kitchen; all this House knew from the sounds he heard from his bed. He didn’t have the heart to face Wilson.

When the noises ceased, after three in the morning, House dared step out of his room. He found Wilson collapsed in a chair, legs pulled up to his chest and a book in his lap. It was open to the first page. He probably hadn’t read a word of it.

House turned off the table lamp by Wilson.

*

That second night, Wilson did speak.

“I can’t--“ he said. It was nearing midnight and House couldn’t make out his expression, for it was dark in the room and the hallway light shined behind Wilson. “It’s too lonely,” he explained without having said the thing to be explained.

But again House understood. “Okay,” he said.

Wilson turned off the living room light, the hallway light, and then returned to House’s room, settling in a chair by the closet. He fell asleep within minutes. House could tell from his slow, even breaths.

*

A week passed when House wakes up one night to a shifting in his bed. “What,” he says, half-asleep. But by the time the answer comes, he already knows that Wilson has crawled in.

“It’s-- please, House.”

He didn’t have to ask. “Go to sleep,” House mutters, turning away from Wilson.

Wilson does sleep, before long, but House doesn’t, not one wink, hyper-aware.

*

They don’t speak of it, but Wilson now sleeps in House’s bed, every night.

There is just enough light, through the curtains, for House to watch Wilson. House watches his face, for Wilson sleeps turned towards him, and even in the darkness he seems drained. If House reached out, he could touch Wilson’s face, or his arm, or any of him, really. He could breathe in the scent of Wilson’s shampoo, could feel the beginnings of his morning stubble against his forehead.

He could pull Wilson in, and hold him close.

He doesn’t.

*

House can’t do it in his own home, because Wilson is there, so he calls from a hotel.

The man they send in is young, handsome, and works wonders with his hands, which is good, because House paid a small fortune. He doesn’t know why. He’s never called for a man before.

But it is exquisite, lying on his stomach and his legs spread, like being filled and torn in half at the same time. The man is slow, at first, and patient, but speeds up as House loses it and begs for faster, harder. It hurts more, but that’s what he needs.

Once it’s over and he’s off the high, House just feels empty. He wants to go back home, wants to see Wilson, but getting out of the bed requires a force of will he can’t muster. Instead, he hides under the covers, and, blacking out all thoughts, falls asleep.

*

He is woken up, hours later, by his cell phone. Even with all the covers, he is covered in goose-bumps, from the hotel’s air conditioning. “What?”

Wilson’s voice comes through. “Oh, thank God--“ It occurs to House that this might not have been the best time to disappear without warning. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, and does not know what more to say.

And neither must Wilson, for all he says, before hanging up, is, “Okay.”

*

The next day, at work, House can tell from the lines under Wilson’s eyes that he didn’t sleep the night before.

Though House wants to call for another man, to be filled and torn apart again, and maybe spend the night once more in a foreign bed, he goes home that night. Wilson sleeps just fine, next to him. House fights the urge to run his fingers over Wilson’s face.

*

House doesn’t always spend his nights with Wilson sleepless; sometimes exhaustion makes him cave in to unconsciousness. One night he wakes up in the middle of night and realizes that Wilson is crying, his back to House.

He does it automatically: he extends his arms and hugs Wilson, pulling Wilson’s back towards his chest. And then House freezes, his heart pounding, horrified at having given in.

But if it was the wrong thing to do, Wilson shows no sign of it. Rather, he turns around and buries his face in House’s chest, and sobs, like there is no end in sight. But that’s the problem, isn’t it; the end is far too visible.

Unable to stop himself, House hugs Wilson tighter and something like pain curls in his chest.

*

“You can’t keep putting it off forever,” House says the next morning.

It’s like he’s punched Wilson in the gut. “You want me to go?”

“I didn’t say that. Just. You can’t stay here forever, putting it off. You have to go back to her apartment, someday.”

Wilson purses his lips, and that night, House is alone in bed again. Not that he sleeps any better. Wilson’s smell is still suffused into the pillows.

*

Author’s notes:  
1\. Uh, I actually stole this plot from another story. The day after Anna and I decided to write for our RP, I was desperate to write and relied on the idea we’d discussed. I asked her if she’d mind if I posted this anyway, and, being awesome, she said it was fine. And though based on the same premise, our RP is turning out to be an entirely different fic, so! ...I bring this up in the interest of disclosure.

2\. Yes this was a pure schmoop fest. I needed it, though, after the finale!


End file.
